


(show me how to love, show me where to start) activate my heart

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, D/s, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Heart-to-Heart, Late Night Conversations, Life-Affirming Sex, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the fallout of the last few weeks, Skye and Jemma reconnect in order to comfort each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(show me how to love, show me where to start) activate my heart

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. There is an absurd amount of conversation in this story.  
> 2\. Despite the fact that Shadowcrawler's series hasn't caught up to the end of the season yet (and unwindmyself's series is going to go on forever) this is a place where they both converge.  
> 3\. Did we mention the conversation? There is so much. SO MUCH.

Compared to the last few days, this one has been relatively low–key.  Most of the rest of the team has spent it getting settled into the Playground, with the unspoken understanding that nobody really wants to talk to anybody else.  Aside from May and Coulson – Skye walked past Coulson’s door earlier in the day and it was open just enough for her to see them both inside, talking in serious tones.  But that felt just a little too much like eavesdropping on Mom and Dad for her, so she kept walking.

Trip’s been slightly less reclusive – he even knocked gently on her door around dinnertime to check on her and see if she’d eaten, which she hadn’t since lunch.  About half an hour later, he’d returned with a plate of steaming macaroni and cheese that even Skye, who’d never eaten mac and cheese that didn’t come from a box, could tell was homemade.  It had _bread crumbs_ on top, for God’s sake.  All she had the presence of mind to do was stammer out a “thank you” while Trip smiled kindly at her.

She’s spent the day in a haze, dozing for a while after scrolling listlessly through Reddit and Tumblr and not actually reading anything longer than three sentences.  Cat videos on YouTube help a bit, but after a while she feels so disgusted with herself she has to stop.  She was hoping that brain–numbing activities would help her to forget about Ward and Hydra and Mike Peterson and everything else, but all they do is make her brain dwell on the stuff she doesn’t want to think about.  Trip’s food at least makes her feel better than the shitty microwaved burrito she’d had for lunch did.

But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s also trying to occupy herself so she doesn’t barge into Jemma’s room and emotions-vomit everywhere.  Because Jemma doesn’t need her emotions–vomit right now, not when her best friend is lying in the medical ward with _brain damage_ , for God’s sake.  The one time Skye did stroll past her room (probably too casually) Jemma wasn’t there, and Skye felt ridiculous having even looked for her there, because of course Jemma would be with Fitz as much as she could be.  And besides Jemma, there’s not really anyone that Skye feels the need to talk to right now.

It’s that need, partially fueled by actually having eaten decent food, that propels her to stand up and walk out her door and down the hall to Jemma’s room.  Jemma’s door is closed, but she steels herself and knocks on the door anyway – it’s possible Jemma’s just in there and doesn’t want just anybody wandering in.

There’s a moment of silence and nothing before Jemma’s voice – or what sounds like Jemma’s voice, probably, despite being a bit shaky and almost raw – calls, “Who is it?”

Skye swallows.  “Uh, me?”

Another pause.  “Come in, Skye.”  There’s no telling if she’s actually interested, if she’s somehow mad about being disturbed or just tired, but it’s an invitation, anyway.

So Skye turns the doorknob and opens the door, awkwardly poking her head in to make sure she’s really welcome.  What she sees makes her wish she’d come in sooner.

Jemma’s sitting on her bed, wrapped in a blanket and holding a pillow to herself tightly, apparently trying to make herself as small as possible.  The only light in the room comes from her bedside lamp, but it’s enough that Skye can see the dried tears on her cheeks.  She sniffles, just once, and Skye can’t help herself, she goes and sits on the bed next to her.

The sudden added weight of another body on the mattress startles Jemma, she can’t help it – it’s hardly any pressure at all, but it still makes the springs shift and sets her to wobbling a bit.  She can’t help being polite, though, so she makes an effort (a rather poor one, but one nonetheless) to smile as she says, “Hello.”  Not exactly sparkling conversation, but she figures that’s not expected of her right now, so she doesn’t bother trying.

Skye coughs, feeling awkward again.  “I, um. I tried to come see you earlier but I guess you were with Fitz.”

Jemma nods once and then twice, frowning into some vague middle distance.  “The odds of that are such that it’s almost a certainty,” she mumbles, because making it sound like a story problem in a maths textbook is a good way of making sure she doesn’t lose her cool talking about it.

“How is he?”  This is Skye’s way of trying to say _oh my god I was so scared I thought you were dead but I don’t know how to deal with my own stupid feelings that’s why I haven’t come to see you yet but I care about you so much._

“About the same as yesterday and the day before that,” Jemma shrugs.  She isn’t going to try to hide behind the science of it because this is one case where that actually may make it _more_ horrifying, all things considered.  Besides that, she’s almost positive that Skye didn’t mean to ask about that and she won’t go rabbiting on about it.

“Good.”  Skye nods.  Awkwardly, feeling more unsure of herself than she has in a long time, she reaches out to take Jemma’s hand in hers.  It’s less than what she wants to do – she wants to hold onto Jemma tightly and not let go of her – but she’s not sure how fragile Jemma’s feeling at the moment and she figures hand–holding is a safe bet, at the very least.

It’s some sort of thank you when Jemma blinks and tries to meet Skye’s eyes – _thank you for caring_ , _thank you for the comforting_ , _thank you for existing_ , something like that – but also the fact that Skye is touching her is setting her almost to crying once again, so her own eyes are shiny with as–yet–unspilled tears.  “Yes,” she manages to choke out.  “It’s – it’s better than some changes that could be, in any case.  No news being good news, or less–bad news, all that.”

“Yeah.” Skye nods and then adds, “How are all your...minor wounds?”  The instant it’s out of her mouth she feels ridiculous, no one calls them _minor wounds_ and especially not her.  But she hopes Jemma understands the sentiment behind the awkward question.

“Those are about the same too,” Jemma says.  “I mean, insofar as they’re still healing at the appropriate rate.  They’re nothing to worry about.  I…”  It’s unclear exactly what she’s stopping herself from saying, but it’s a fair bet it’s how she feels about being the relatively unscathed one.

“Glad to hear it.”  Skye’s quiet for a long moment before she says, “I was so fucking scared for you.”  That’s not quite what she meant to say, although it was basically what she’s wanted to say all day, and she gnaws at her lip and stares at Jemma with wide eyes while she waits for her response.

For her part, Jemma mostly seems startled, like she had somehow managed to forget about the fact that the others would have even been thinking about her (they had all sorts of more important business to be tending to, after all).  All she can force out is a faint “Oh.”

Skye just decides to barrel ahead with the emotions–vomit.  “We got the call and he said you guys were dead and I couldn’t lose it, not when I had stuff to do, but inside I was freaking the fuck out and I thought I might never see you again and when I saw you standing there on the ramp I almost lost it right there with AC and May looking.”  She takes a ragged breath and continues, “And the whole day today I’ve been bouncing back and forth between like three different thoughts and one of those was how much I needed to come talk to you and tell you how scared I was and how much I love you.”

That’s so much more emotion than Jemma’s used to handling at any one time (she even manages to keep a tight hold of her _own_ feelings for goodness’ sake) and before she can think better of it, she’s turning to collapse against Skye’s chest, suddenly breathing _very_ loudly.  “I thought of you, too,” she says into Skye’s shirt.  “I couldn’t help it, I was – I was down there sure I was going to… and I just kept thinking that maybe you were going to succeed, at the least.  That I understood how it was going to go and the only thing keeping me from being perfectly all right with it, I swear, was the little voice at the back of my mind telling me that I wasn’t going to see your face or hear your voice or say goodbye to you.  All of the team, but mostly you.”

The second Jemma collapses into Skye, Skye wraps her arms around her and holds on.  As Jemma talks, it becomes clear to Skye that Jemma hasn’t really processed what’s gone on any more than Skye has, and that she needs to be taken care of right now, probably even more than Skye.  So she gently strokes Jemma’s hair and holds her close and makes soothing noises in the back of her throat.

For some reason, this catches Jemma off–guard as much as anything has (she can’t see herself as needing sympathy because she’s been so focused on the reasons that everyone else might be, that’s part of it) and she can’t help but cry just from being so overwhelmed by this tenderness that she didn’t think she needed.  “It wasn’t supposed to go like that,” she says, her voice muffled.  “It wasn’t supposed to be – we shouldn’t have…”  She’s not even sure what she’s specifically referring to anymore, but she’s sure that she could have fixed it if only she’d been a bit cleverer about people.

Skye’s always been uncomfortable with crying people, but this is _Jemma_ , it’s different.  So she just murmurs, “It’s okay, I know.  None of this was supposed to go the way it did.  But we made it, Jem.  We _made it._ I’ve got you now.”

Jemma takes in a breath, attempting to calm herself, but she can’t help it, her exhale comes out a sob.  “You do, don’t you,” she whispers.  “I… you take care of me.  You want to take care of all of us, and you – you’re so…”  It trails off, like she’s searching for the right word and is just too flustered to find it, but whatever it is there’s that oft–present note of reverence in her voice.

Slightly taken aback by this, Skye keeps rubbing Jemma’s back and lets her words sink in.  She’s still getting used to having people around that she actually _wants_ to take care of, that don’t just keep her around because she’s useful, and she really, really likes the version of herself that Jemma sees.  She’s not sure if she feels like it’s who she is, but it’s kind of who she wants to be.  She gently tilts Jemma’s head up from where she’s burrowed into Skye’s chest and kisses her, because she feels like Jemma needs it, needs to be reminded in yet another way of how much she’s loved.

Maybe it’s Skye’s way of telling her not to keep on looking for words that can’t be found or maybe it’s just that Skye needs closeness and contact as much as Jemma does (of course she would, she’s had a trying time too, silly to think that she herself was the only one hurting, she’s immediately chiding herself) but it’s not something Jemma’s going to argue with, no.  She braces herself against the mattress, scoots a bit closer and pushes her body up so they’re in a position better suited to kissing and not just a kiss singular, and she thinks that Skye has a way of knowing what she, what they both, need in times like these.

Adjusting her own position slightly to mirror Jemma’s, Skye kisses her several more times before pulling back and, still holding Jemma’s hand, scoots further back onto the bed because she’s pretty sure if they keep this up while perching on the edge of Jemma’s bed it won’t end well.  Since they seem to be heading towards comfort makeout territory, she angles herself so she’s resting against the headboard and Jemma can sort of straddle her.  She doesn’t want to make Jemma feel crowded or trapped in any way.  “You can be on top now, if you want,” she says, half–joking in an attempt to make Jemma smile even though the joke isn’t that funny.

“Shush,” Jemma exclaims, but she’s trying to hold back a little laugh because it’s not funny but right now it’s just light and ridiculous enough to work.  And hey, she can work with this.  It’s not exactly how things go with them most of the time, but how could she say no, really?  Skye looks beautiful (she always looks beautiful) and she also looks rather delicious, which means that Jemma is quick to move in to kiss her throat, to press as close to her as possible.

Skye makes a happy little noise and tilts her head back slightly.  This was meant to be a way to make Jemma feel better, but Skye’s certainly not going to object if Jemma wants to lavish her with affection too.

Some combination of that earlier guilt for not thinking about the fact that anyone else might have been upset and a need to find something outside of herself to focus on means that Jemma’s focusing very intently on these kisses, dragging her lips all down Skye’s neck and over the bare parts of her chest, shutting her eyes and inhaling her girlfriend’s scent.

At the moment the more verbose parts of Skye’s brain have begun to go quiet, replaced with general _!!!!_ and warm feelings in her chest and also other parts of her.  She manages to arrive at the conclusion that, because Jemma seems to be interested in all of the places where she’s bare–skinned, obviously she should work on providing her with more of that, and gently nudges Jemma off for just long enough to wriggle out of her shirt.

It’s very much the right decision, given the pure lust in Jemma’s expression.  She practically swoops back in and now she’s planting a row of kisses across Skye’s collarbone, impossibly slow and thorough.  One thing at a time, and this is such a pleasant one thing she may actually be able to achieve that.

Skye’s been with a wide variety of lovers in the past, but she’s definitely not used to this kind of focused, gentle, almost reverent attention to her body, and it’s making her react in ways she’s not used to either.  She arches her back toward Jemma, feeling herself start to go a bit boneless.  After a moment a noise slips out of her mouth, one she’s surprised she can even make, and her embarrassment shocks her out of the pleasant fog that had started to settle over her mind.

Jemma looks up, and damned if that’s not just the cutest little giggle.  “I thought that silly squeaks were my province,” she teases.

Unsure of what to say to that, Skye’s only reply is “...surprise?”

“It’s a cute surprise,” Jemma assures, running a hand down Skye’s side as she moves lower, kissing over and between Skye’s breasts.

Sighing happily, Skye closes her eyes.  She’s always liked it when people pay attention to her breasts, even though she knows they’re nothing special really, and this feels incredible.  She tries to sneak her arm up behind her to undo the clasp of her bra in order to offer Jemma complete access to her top half, when she feels Jemma’s hand gently tug her hand back.

“Huh–uh,” Jemma murmurs, meeting Skye’s gaze and shaking her head solemnly.  “Let me take care of it.”  A beat.  “Please?”

Skye huffs a laugh.  Of course Jemma wants to make sure she’s okay with this, even though obviously she’s more than.  “Yeah,” she says, letting her hand rest where it was before.  “Please, Jem.”

Satisfied, Jemma reaches to undo the clasp, then carefully pulls the straps down over Skye’s arms one at a time, smoothing over her skin as she does.  She’s not nearly so attentive with the bra once it’s off (it just gets thrown aside) but that’s because her focus is back on Skye, on tasting every last inch of her skin, on finding all of the little pleasure points she knows and then finding a few more.

All of Skye’s breaths are coming out as gasps.  It would be embarrassing, except that she’s enjoying this so damn much that she doesn’t care.  Jemma is so good at this, so precise and careful, and she feels so good that she thinks she might explode, even though that’s ridiculous.  Vaguely, she realizes she has hands and they’re just kind of clutching the blankets idly, which seems like just a bit too extreme for this situation, so she moves one to pet Jemma’s hair idly.  It’s meant to be a vague encouragement for Jemma to keep doing what she’s doing.

There’s a split second where Jemma has to decide if she wants to go through with the idea that suddenly struck her: she does rather like Skye’s hand in her hair, but – no, this isn’t that sort of moment, right now what she needs is concentration (mostly hers) and control (mostly Skye’s) and so she glances back up, looking impossibly innocent, and repeats, “Please?”  She knows (she hopes she knows) that Skye will get it.

Which Skye does, and she moves her hand away with one last gentle stroke and lets Jemma go to work.  In her travels across the internet, she vaguely remembers reading something about this, and it wasn’t something she would’ve considered before, but she’s really, really enjoying it now.

Jemma inches back, maneuvers so she’s kneeling between Skye’s legs and leans far enough forward that she’s using her forearms to brace herself, skin against the denim still covering Skye’s legs.  That’s all well and good, anyway, because this is hands off.  This is her mouth and her tongue and Skye’s body, this is her planting kisses almost methodically on Skye’s stomach and then lifting her head up just slightly to pay more attention to her breasts (taking one nipple in her mouth and rolling it lightly between her teeth, circling it with her tongue) and then sliding back even more, so she’s practically belly–down.

This part is a habit she’s gotten into, even when the game is different, but she still has to search Skye’s face for specific permission before she starts kissing those scars on the skin of her abdomen.  It’s very important to her to do, though, because – well, a couple of scars are nothing, they wouldn’t be anything anyway, but especially in the wake of other possibly fatal events it’s nice for Jemma to have a reminder that Skye’s still here with her.  They’re still here together.

Skye’s brain has been a little fuzzy for the past few minutes but she’s not so out of it that she doesn’t notice that Jemma’s stopped kissing and is looking up at her uncertainly.  It takes her a second to realize why – and it nearly makes her melt all over again when she does, because _of course_ Jemma would want to be sure she was okay with her scars being kissed – but once she does, she nods and murmurs, “Please.”

So Jemma moves in, tentatively licks over one scar and then presses her lips to it; she doesn’t hardly move at all but to tease over the skin.  Her eyes close, she lets out a little wordless murmur of her own, and she’s just feeling the terrain of Skye’s body with her mouth, gentle as she can. She’s not sure how long she spends at it before she moves onto the other, but it’s long enough to make her rather forget that she’s trying to forget anything else.  This is all that matters.  Skye is all that matters.

Skye’s going a bit floppy from Jemma’s attentions, occasionally making little satisfied noises that she doesn’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about anymore.  Her internal monologue’s sort of pleasantly absent, replaced by warm happy almost–thoughts about how good this feels and how much she loves Jemma.  She’s never really had anyone lavish affection on her like this, and she’s enjoying the hell out of it.  Especially after her scary, exhausting attempts to con Ward, it’s nice to be giving a part of herself to someone she trusts this much.

And Jemma, of course, doesn’t know these details.  She can imagine that something awful must have happened with Ward; he’s awful, he’s right at the top of her very short list of people and things that she purely hates, and when she finds out the details of what he did to Skye he’ll be even more so.  That’s not the point, though, that’s not why she’s doing this.  She’s doing this because she loves Skye possibly more than she thought she could love another person in this way and she wants to make Skye feel better, feel _good_ , and she wants to make herself feel better too, and this is such a simple way to do that.  This is the simplest way, and given Skye’s reactions it’s working, so she keeps at it.

Somewhere amidst the haze in her brain, Skye realizes that Jemma might like to hear what a good job she’s doing, so she murmurs, “Mmm, thank you honey, you’re so good at this.  You’re making me feel so good, I love you so much.”

Jemma flushes, preening a bit as she props herself up enough to turn her attentions back to Skye’s breasts, and she doesn’t say anything but she’s actually smiling and not just perfunctorily, she actually feels like she’s done as well as Skye seems to think.

Skye had kind of figured Jemma was done with her breasts, so she’s delighted when Jemma moves back up there.  She moans more loudly than usual and lets herself get lost in the sensations for a while.  Then it occurs to her that perhaps actual sex might be the next step, so she murmurs, “Should I...pants…?”  That’s nowhere near as coherent as she intended it to be, but oh well.  She also realizes that Jemma’s still completely clothed, and, as much as she’s loving this attention, it’s not entirely fair, especially since she came in here with the goal of being the comforting girlfriend.  She reaches for Jemma’s hair to pet it and says quietly, “You’re doing so well, honey, but it’s not really fair for me to get all the attention tonight, is it?”

Jemma startles just slightly, and the first thing that crosses her mind to say is, “I don’t know, ma’am, I… I like giving you attention.”

“I like it too, a lot,” answers Skye, “but I feel like tonight should be for both of us.”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Jemma whispers.  She’s not sure exactly what Skye’s got in mind, but she trusts her.

Skye reaches for the buttons on Jemma’s shirt to undo them.  She has a feeling that if she doesn’t get the ball rolling with the whole mutually naked thing, it won’t happen, and while part of her would like to let Jemma kiss her all over all night long she’s determined not to be selfish.  Clearly they both need this, need to be with each other like they haven’t in weeks.

The fact that it’s been weeks, or maybe the fact that there are _more_ near–death experiences standing between them, means that Jemma’s suddenly very shy about all of this despite having very recently helped Skye do the same herself.  As Skye fiddles with her buttons, she takes in a deep breath, she lets her gaze fall demurely to her girlfriend’s hands.  There are things she’s not saying, and she can only imagine the same for Skye, but for that reason she knows that this is important.  She’s just having a hard time taking her fair share of the intimacy.

Sensing Jemma’s shyness, Skye chuckles and says, “It’s okay, I promise.  You’re great, Jem, and I just wanna show you that.  Let me do this for you, okay?”

“O–okay,” Jemma agrees, looking up slowly and nodding.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Skye, and how weird is it that she’d never have seen herself saying those words to anybody before Jemma?  But here she is, and it doesn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable.  She’s down to the last button by now, and gently pulls Jemma’s shirt first down one arm, then the other.  Pausing to press a kiss to Jemma’s collarbone, she then moves down to work on easing Jemma’s leggings off her.

“You first,” Jemma insists, going for the zipper of Skye’s jeans before it can be argued.  It has to be Skye’s to actually take them off, probably, just logistically speaking, but the gesture makes it clear that it needs to happen now.

Once Jemma’s got the zipper undone, Skye adjusts so that she’s kneeling and can more easily slip out of her jeans and toss them to the floor.  Then, grinning lasciviously, she says, “Now it’s your turn.”

This is flirting, which Jemma still isn’t great at even with Skye, but she manages to more or less match that smile as she swings to pull her leggings off, all but wadding them up before she drops them somewhere behind her.  “What now?” she asks lightly.

“Well, you’ve still got undies on, we’d better fix that,” jokes Skye as she reaches around Jemma to undo her bra.  After that’s off, she then makes quick work of Jemma’s panties, leaving Jemma kneeling there looking so gorgeous it takes Skye’s breath away.

“You too,” Jemma mumbles, reaching for Skye’s own considerably scantier panties but not actually making to get rid of them herself.

Skye wriggles out of them (with Jemma’s help, sort of, though she understands Jemma’s not really in the headspace to be taking the lead here) and then she leans forward to kiss Jemma again, more hungrily than before.  The kisses before were about reassurance; this one is hopefully a hint at what’s to come.

Jemma absolutely moans into the kiss, sitting back on her heels and looping an arm around Skye’s waist as an anchor.  Maybe this is an unconventional solution, but it’s a damn pleasant one, so she’s glad of it.  “How would you like me?” she whispers against Skye’s lips.  Positionwise, she means.

Skye hasn’t actually thought this far ahead yet, but she figures probably she can just roll with it, so she begins to gently push Jemma onto her back.  Since that position won’t be comfortable with her legs as they are currently, Skye untucks each one from under itself and, as she straightens them out, notices how tense the muscles are and rubs them.  Jemma moans at that, making Skye grin.  Finally she’s got her girlfriend on her back, stretched out, and is leaning on top of her.

There are a few possibilities here, Jemma thinks (or at least she thinks this as much as she’s capable of thinking anything right now): Skye’s mouth on her is the most likely, all things considered, but she said “both of us,” that doesn’t imply the usual exactly (not that they don’t both – but not often at the same time, not that way).  There’s Skye’s hand, there’s… _oh_.

During the process of pinning Jemma onto the bed and arranging herself on top, Skye’s hips have sort of managed to line up perfectly with Jemma’s – which means other places also happen to line up perfectly.  Which Skye realizes when she accidentally grinds against Jemma in _just_ the right way to send a jolt through her, and presumably through Jemma too.  That gives her an idea.  She’s always been vaguely aware of this option for girl–on–girl, but she hasn’t really been into the idea before.  It always seemed too...touchy–feely.  But here they are, in basically the perfect position for it, so why not?  She tries moving again, experimentally.

Jemma’s eyes go wide, but good–wide; a little whimper of a sound falls from her lips and after a moment she reaches for one of Skye’s hands and says, “More, please?”

“Of course, honey,” murmurs Skye, tightening her grip on Jemma’s hand as she begins to set a rhythm to her movements.  She moves the other hand beneath Jemma’s shoulders, pulling her even closer if that’s possible, and kisses her.

“Thank you,” Jemma whispers, daring to trace the outline of Skye’s lips with her tongue (it’s not such right now that she feels like she needs to be reserved, all things considered).  It’s taken her a few seconds, but she’s starting to shift her hips to match Skye’s, which just adds to the sensation.

There’s a few more minutes of rubbing, punctuated by noises from both (which started out fairly quiet but are getting increasingly less quiet), when Skye suddenly feels compelled to gasp, “I...I’m really glad you’re mine, Jem.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A beat.  “I don’t, either,” Jemma echoes.  “I mean, as applies to me without you.  I can’t imagine…”  She shakes her head, cards fingers through Skye’s hair.  “I keep thinking I can’t possibly feel that more than I do, and then life proves me wrong.”

Skye chuckles breathlessly.  “I’m so damn lucky.  I have the most beautiful, brilliant girl in the whole world.”

“I love being yours,” Jemma says, punctuating it with a happy little sigh as their hips move.  “I’d never have imagined it so…”

“So, what?”  Skye smirks and raises an eyebrow, and while it’s hard to maintain a sarcastic expression at the moment, she manages somehow.  “How did you imagine it?  Like, us, or love in general?  Because lemme tell you, I couldn’t have imagined anybody like you if I’d tried.”

“Both, I think?” Jemma manages, pulling just the slightest bit of a face in return (though hers is more concentration than anything else).  “I mean, I didn’t imagine that I’d have someone who made me feel like you do, and… and you, I suppose I didn’t dare to dream it would go this far.”

Making a little _mm_ noise, Skye realizes that she’s pretty much in the same boat as Jemma there.  Not that she hasn’t been in love before, of sorts, or at least what felt like love at the time, but it’s never been effortless like this.  Jemma isn’t with her because of her skills or her usefulness or because she’s the only option, Jemma loves her wholly.  And Skye reciprocates, although she’s not really sure if anyone could _avoid_ falling in love with Jemma.  She pulls Jemma close for another kiss and moans, “I definitely didn’t either, Jem.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can’t imagine going back to not… not _us_ ,” Jemma whispers, searching Skye’s face for some sign that she should really just stop talking. she’s going too far over the edge of sappiness.  “I just… we’ve been through so many things together that would be so hard to explain to others and I’m really just going off, aren’t I?”  Because if Skye won’t _show_ her she’s being ridiculous, she’ll just get to that conclusion herself.

“Yeah, but I love that.  I love you.”  Skye presses a kiss to Jemma’s neck.  “I can’t imagine that either.  You – you’re my everything.”  That feels so weird to say and even weirder to mean, but she does.  She’s used to saying nice things to make people like her more, but genuinely meaning them is something new.  It’s nice.

“Promise?” Jemma asks, sounding even more vulnerable than she already has tonight.  It’s not that she doesn’t trust it, she just needs it said as a surety because, well, nothing else is a constant anymore, is it?

“Promise, honey,” Skye murmurs, looking Jemma right in the eyes as she says it.  Suddenly she recognizes that she’s close, and gasps, “Are you close too, Jem?”

“Uh–huh,” Jemma pants, brows knitting together as she realizes this.  She knows how useless she can be the moment after orgasm, so she very much doesn’t want to be the first one to come, she wants to make Skye feel so satisfied and treasured, but then – well, she’s always sort of thought that simultaneous orgasm is a myth (it’s certainly not as simple as you see in popular media) but apparently tonight they’re mythological – then they’re tipping right over the edge together, Jemma practically collapsing against the mattress and Skye practically collapsing against Jemma.

After taking a second to collect herself, Skye realizes that she should probably roll off Jemma and does, flopping next to her with a happy sigh and reaching to stroke her hair.  “You’re amazing,” she mumbles.

“You’re more amazing,” Jemma slurs, grinning at Skye with that somehow–sleepy after–orgasm face of hers.  She lets her hand trace over the curve of Skye’s hip, gives a matching sigh.  “You feel amazing and you make me feel that way too, and that’s just… it’s _splendid_.”

“Well, look at you breaking out the five–dollar words,” teases Skye.

“I mean it!” Jemma insists.  “It’s just – when I’m with you, I can get lost in you, like I can just forget about everything, all the…”  Well, the things that she’s suddenly _not_ forgetting about anymore.  “And that’s special.”

“Good,” breathes Skye.  “You help me forget too.  I needed to forget about all the bullshit that’s happened lately, tonight.”

“Yes,” Jemma agrees.  She snuggles closer to Skye as she admits, “Through all of this – this bullshit, I’ve been so worried about you.  I know you can take care of yourself, probably better than…”  Than her, she means.  “But we haven’t really… I mean, I don’t… the more I learned about what _he_ was capable of, the more I worried about what he had done or wanted to do to you.  If he’d… I think I’d have done something worse than nail–gunning his foot.”

Skye chuckles.  “I wish I’d gotten more of a crack at him too, believe me.  I mean, May did a pretty good job, but still.  Incidentally,” she adds, “you’re adorable when you get all angry protective kitten.”

“Excuse me,” Jemma huffs, “I mean, I’ll take the compliment, but I’d like to think I’m a bit more menacing than a kitten.”

“A tiger kitten, maybe,” concedes Skye.  “With very sharp claws.  I didn’t say it didn’t make me feel safer.”  Jemma looks satisfied with this, and Skye watches her preen with a fond smile before adding, “He’d never have killed me anyway, he wanted me too much.  But it was kinda touch–and–go there for a while.”

Suddenly, Jemma’s face falls.  She can’t quite articulate what she’s afraid of (she knows what it is, but her brain won’t even put the words properly together, it’s that horrible to her) but the fact that Skye’s being so… not _casual_ , exactly, but understated about it, that’s cause for worry.  She knows how Skye is about downplaying things.  But she also knows why it is that Skye downplays things, so she’s practically whispering when she asks, “What did… I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but… did… he…?”

“No!” Skye reaches for Jemma’s hand, holding it tightly in an attempt to reassure her.  “I did end up kissing him a couple times, which, ew, but no, nothing beyond that.  Oh, and I guess he kind of kicked me around a little and threatened to ‘take what he wanted.’  I’ve had worse.”  She keeps her tone dry, attempting to make it into a joke.

“Sodding arsehole,” Jemma mutters venomously.  She lets go of Skye’s hand, but only so she can wrap around Skye protectively, hugging her and nuzzling into her shoulder.  “I didn’t realize it was possible to hate him more.  I didn’t realize it was possible to hate _anyone_ this much, but after… well, this on top of…”  The intention there was to passionately swear vengeance, but it’s reasonable that it fades off into something else altogether.

Skye hums sympathetically and begins to pet Jemma’s hair again, hoping it soothes her.  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, honey,” she murmurs.  “I hate the bastard too, but I came back okay, we’re all okay, and I’m here with you now.  He won’t get near either of us again.”

“We’re not _all_ okay,” Jemma mumbles before she can think better of it.  “You’re okay, and I’m so grateful, Skye, I wouldn’t know what to do if… and I’m okay, and you’ve got me and I’m grateful for that, too, but…”  Fitz.  He’s what this comes down to, really.  “You took care of yourself, you always do, but if it hadn’t been for Fitz, I… we’d both, he and I, we’d still be… and now he’s.”  Skye knows perfectly well what the situation is, but she doesn’t know everything, and in the interest of being honest Jemma rushes to add, “He’s… it’s because he loves me.”

“Oh.”  Skye’s not really sure what to do with this information, so she decides to just let Jemma talk, because it seems like Jemma’s seconds away from letting something spill out and maybe that will clear everything up.

“I mean, he didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s what he meant,” Jemma says, and maybe it’s that she’s just feeling emotional enough or maybe it’s that since Skye’s confessed everything she feels like she should do the same, but she hurries through the rest.  “He was going to let me go without him, he wanted me to, he wanted – and I tried, I tried to say no, I wasn’t going to let that happen, I – he’s my best friend, and I don’t want – didn’t want to – I dragged him up with me, but he – I –”

Skye shushes Jemma gently, pressing her forehead to Jemma’s and reaching up to cup Jemma’s face in her hands and, once Jemma’s calmed a bit, kissing her gently on the lips.  “Of course he loves you,” she says, “only an idiot wouldn’t love you.  It’s okay, Jem. His feelings for you don’t change anything any more than Ward’s shitty, messed–up feelings for me.”  Too late, she realizes this is a bad comparison, but oh well.

To Jemma’s credit, she’s too emotionally wrung out to point out the obvious flaws in the comparison (they both understand them) but she does manage to say, “I’m yours and I don’t feel bad about _that_ , I feel better about it than anything, but I… a part of me feels bad that I’m just not wired up to tell him what would have made him feel better.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.  But, I mean, you didn’t exactly have a ton of time to talk at that point.”  Skye grins, somewhat halfheartedly.  “Seriously, Jemma, it’s okay.  When he wakes up, he’ll understand.  He’s a good guy.  And then you guys can go back to being Wonder Twins.”

“I kissed him,” Jemma confesses.  “On the face but not on the mouth.  I’m not even sure what I thought I was doing.”

“Panicking, probably,” says Skye wryly.  “You still probably got the better end of the deal. Ward’s a shitty kisser.  Really, Jemma, I don’t care.  You guys were both freaking out and you did a lot of really crazy shit in the moment that seems dumb in retrospect.  I’ve totally been there.  It’s fine.”

“I want to believe that,” Jemma murmurs, suddenly doing her cartoon–animal stare.  “Tell me again, maybe.  Please?”

Skye kisses her again, more fervently this time.  “I love you so much and I don’t care that you kissed him or that he’s in love with you.  I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“And it’s fine,” insists Jemma.  “That part.  Say that more.”

“It’s fine, you’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong,” murmurs Skye, branching out to kiss different parts of Jemma’s face in between phrases.  “No matter what, I love you.  No grudges here, I promise.”

“And it’s all gonna turn out fine, too,” Jemma says.  “Tell me that.  I actually believe it when you say it.”

That makes Skye laugh a bit.  “Everything’s gonna be okay, Jem.  It will,” she says, stroking Jemma’s cheek.  “Fitz will wake up and be fine and we’ll all hang out here in the Playground for a while and Trip will make us delicious fancy food and bring us all shiny new tech toys.  And then we’ll go back out and kick ass and save the world again.  And I’ll always be here next to you.”

“Mm,” Jemma smiles, moving in to press a kiss to Skye’s jaw.  “I like that.  You kind of make it sound like a fairytale.  Or the closest to one we’re going to get.”

“Which one of us is the princess, then?”  Skye smirks.  “It’s probably not me.  I’d be a shitty princess.”

“Don’t be silly!” Jemma exclaims.  “But you’d be a better queen than princess, I think.”

“Ooh, I’ll take that.  Then I actually get to tell people what to do.  You’d have to be _my_ queen though,” says Skye.  “I’d be lonesome otherwise.”

“What, like your consort!” Jemma giggles.  “So would I just look pretty while you told people what to do?”

Skye giggles too.  “I mean, I’d let you make decisions too – sometimes.  But a big part of the job would be looking pretty, yeah.  Arm candy is important for royalty.”

“Well, then I’d take that job very seriously,” Jemma says.  “And I’m honored you think I’m up to it.”

“You kidding?  Nobody’d look twice at me if you were next to me.  I’d be the envy of every king in the area.”  This is getting ridiculous, but Skye’s enjoying herself.  That’s a little surprising, but not enough for her to stop.

“In the area?” Jemma repeats.  She’s fully aware of how silly this is, too, but they’re both deserving of a little silliness. “You mean the continent?  Typically there’s not a whole slew of kings sitting around in one township.  Unless it’s for some sort of diplomatic meeting, I suppose…”

“Too literal,” teases Skye, flicking Jemma’s nose with a finger.  “I dunno, I was just imagining a bunch of dudes staring at my gorgeous wife.  But not like, in a creepy way.  I dunno why kings meet.  I didn’t overthink it like you.”

“I suppose in this scenario I would be that, wouldn’t I,” Jemma muses, going rather pink at the thought.  “But maybe it’s a good thing I overthink things.  Noticing details.  I could whisper them in your ear after one of those diplomatic meetings, sprawled out in our giant royal bed under a canopy or some such, all… happily sated.”

Skye makes a happy noise in the back of her throat.  “I like that idea.  I like us–as–queens.  We’d be kickass queens.”

“I think so, too,” says Jemma, and she traces her fingertips over Skye’s skin for a moment before adding,  “I just… thank you.”

“Of course.”  Skye kisses her, because she’s not quite sure how else to respond to that, but she knows there’s a lot Jemma’s not saying and that she herself isn’t sure how to say.  She can try to communicate it with kisses though.

“I know I thank you a lot, probably, so it might not even sound like it means a terrible lot anymore, but it does,” Jemma continues.  “I… you have this way of being able to help me turn things around, I suppose.  And I hope I can do the same for you sometimes, I mean I want to in any case.”

“Aw, you totally do!  You – you make me feel like there’s a point to everything.  I don’t wanna just coast anymore, I wanna be someone important.”  Although, truth be told, the whole team makes her feel that way a little.  But Jemma’s the biggest reason.

“You are,” Jemma says immediately.  “Important.  To me, and in general, and… you just are.”  It’s said with the conviction that means that she’s overcompensating for a technically poorly constructed argument but that she means it completely.

“Thank you,” murmurs Skye, nuzzling into Jemma’s shoulder.  “You’re important too.  Really, really important.”

Jemma grins, albeit rather slowly, and paws at Skye’s cheek in some attempt at affection.  “I like when you’re sweet like that,” she begins, and it’s possible she’s going to continue but she interrupts herself with a rather giant yawn.

Skye watches her for a moment, smiling, and then says, “Jem, you haven’t been sleeping much, have you?”

“I’ve gotten some sleep,” Jemma exclaims defensively, but she knows she can’t keep up the lie, so pretty quickly she clarifies, “A few hours here and there.”

“That’s not really enough, honey,” Skye replies.  “My sleep schedule is all fucked up too but I’ve been trying to fix it, anyway.  You need to sleep, okay?  I know that and I don’t even have _one_ PhD.”

“It’ll be easier if you’re with me,” Jemma declares, and from her tone it’s not quite clear if she’s just stating that as fact (having her someone with her, the comfort of that) or as an attempt to seduce her into staying (not that there was much question about it, but even still).

Chuckling, Skye says, “Okay, I can do that.  Sleeping alone was super depressing anyway.”  She gently grabs Jemma and flips her onto her other side so she can spoon her, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Jemma that quickly quiets when she feels Skye’s arm encircling her.  Pressing a kiss to Jemma’s shoulder, Skye nestles into her.  “Better?”

“Much,” Jemma confirms.  “And you won’t be cross if I get restless, or… or wake up in the middle of the night?”  Said in the way that more or less confirms why she’d be doing that (nasty awful dreams and the like, which is part of why she’s been lacking sleep in the first place).

“Of course not,” says Skye.  “Why would I?  Hell, I can’t guarantee _I_ won’t do either of those things.”

“Then I suppose we’re on the same page,” Jemma smiles.  She leans against Skye’s body just a bit more and sighs happily.  “‘Night, darling,” she whispers.

“Night,” murmurs Skye, settling in.  She feels safer here in Jemma’s bed than she has in weeks.


End file.
